The Value of Family
by bluRaaven
Summary: Whiterun is in an uproar, the Pale threatens war while Ulfric is cracking down on Jarl Balgruuf and the Dragonborn has betrayed them all and fled with a priceless artifact and blood on his hands. And, as always, all eyes turn to the Companions to deal with the mess. Only, the warriors of Jorrvaskr are up to their necks in their own problems, and there's no float in sight.


SPOILERS for ending of BtS!

A small appetizer for the Companion story arc I have planned. I also assume you have read "Before the Storm".

This story is part of the Blacktyde Chronicles. And, without further ado, enjoy!

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><p>On the day the contingent of soldiers from Dawnstar arrives, demanding to speak with the Jarl on the matter of the choice of his Thane and complaining about a group known through the Pale as 'Blacktyde's Marauders', Vilkas is training with Ria in the courtyard of Jorrvaskr.<p>

The Imperial woman has improved significantly despite the recent loss of half her hand. It is evident how much Wulf had trained her before he left for High Hrothgar and the Harbinger feels a twinge of guilt over neglecting his duties. Thankfully, it doesn't measure up to the pang of infuriation over the man who missed Farkas' and Lydia's wedding. For his own sake Vilkas hopes that the missing Nord does not think that a few gifts for Midyear, now long past, will make up for that.

Ria has learned to brace her new shield and the additional straps keep it in place. She feints low, comes in high and simultaneously slams her shield down on Vilkas' sword and he nearly loses that bout then and there. Serves him right for being lost in thought during a spar.

He is pleased with Ria's progress and assured that he can send her out again and tells her so, critically eying her footwork. It is much better now, but she is still weak when attacking, too predictable and open.

Both Companions are startled by the arrival of the messenger from Dragonsreach. The woman bows quickly before announcing that Jarl Balgruuf wants to see Vilkas. The Harbinger hangs up his training sword, pats Ria on the back, congratulating her on her progress and says he'll be there shortly, he'll just have a change of clothes.

He does not want to leave the Jarl waiting, but he also is not exactly presentable, soaked in sweat and covered in the dust of the training ground. The woman looks apologetic, but insists he come _now_ and Vilkas acquiesces with a grumble. She leads the way while he wipes at his smeared war paint in an attempt to clear up the messy black line somewhat and only succeeds in staining his sleeve a sooty grey.

Vilkas enters Dragonsreach in a much better mood than he leaves in.

_Did he know that their Thane was likely a member of a band of pirates that had terrorized the northern coastline for a decade and that he had committed a capital offence by assaulting Jarl Skald the Elder? _

Of course not! How would he!? And the Jarl should worry less about Wulfryk being a member of the Circle, and more about the fact that _he_ had made him Thane on the off chance the guy was the Dragonborn. And that had worked out splendidly, with him yet to return from the Greybeards and Lydia being all tight-lipped about what had happened in the monastery.

Balgruuf has made it clear that he wishes to see consequences; Vilkas only wants to throttle the motherless bastard of a criminal who is dragging their name through the dirt, causing trouble wherever he goes.

'It can't get much worse than this', Vilkas thinks darkly on his way back to Jorrvaskr.

He is about to find out just how wrong he is.

The Jarl's youngest son does not return that evening and most of the guard and all of the Companions except for Torvar who still cannot walk, are sent out to find him. Vilkas roams the countryside with his twin as they search for the boy, without success.

With every day that passes the chance of finding Nelkir grow slimmer and on the seventh night of his disappearance the brothers share a cheerless, cold dinner. None of them speaks, dares to voice the doubts, but the plains are huge and they have one small kid to kind before any predators do so. Vilkas hopes Athis and Ria fare better than they do.

"I wish Aela was here", Farkas mutters, etching swirls into the dirt with a short stick.

Vilkas acknowledged his comment with a grunt. If anybody is up to this sheer impossible task, it would be her. But after the wedding the Huntress left to find the remaining members of the Silver Hand and she is yet to return. They'll have to do without her.

Neither Companion knows that at the very moment a break-in is about to happen in the Jarl's Keep.

xxxx

A day later the guards at the gates manage to calm down a panicked horse that comes racing up the road, almost running over a few people who hastily jump out of its way.

Somebody has mistreated it badly; there are bloody whip marks across the animal's rump. It is hitched to a small cart and the guards suspect nothing sinister when they pull aside the canvas to peek inside.

xxxx

News of Nelkir's murder spread throughout the hold like a wildfire after a drought.

The Companions are called back immediately, their search ended. Not only is the Jarl's son dead, but a priceless artifact has gone missing and one of the two guards that were found trussed up in the dungeon swears that he was attacked by the Thane.

His comrade is yet to wake up.

The thief has gotten away, and the soldiers are at a loss. After all, the gates are closed after nightfall, and they are well guarded at that. Nobody else saw the Thane come or leave.

Vilkas does know something they don't. The smell is the first thing that hits him when he enters Jorrvaskr through the Underforge. He follows it, downstairs and straight to Wulf's room – and curses when he finds it empty. There is no trace left of the man who had lived here, the cupboards are empty, the shelves naked. In his own room, one of Kodlak's maps is missing.

The Harbinger is seething as he throws open the doors of the dormitory and kicks the man on one of the beds. Torvar blinks up blearily and slurs that he had been asleep and heard nothing. It is no wonder; he is, after all, drunk again.

By the time Vilkas has to attend court, his anger has solidified into cold, hard determination. It lives up again when he beholds his Jarl weeping over the small, lifeless body and swears he is going to make the culprit pay. He does not think of the man by name, because there is no proof that the theft and Nelkir's passing are connected.

And then Hrongar pulls something from the boy's clenched fist and holds it up. "What's this?"

It is a piece of cloth, as if torn away during a struggle and when the Harbinger asks the warrior to show it to him, he already suspects whom it belongs to. He is loath to voice the accusation, but after the incriminating evidence Vilkas is forced to admit that one of their own did this.

Balgruuf orders him to find Wulfryk.

He wants him brought to justice.

All they do find instead is Irileth's corpse, not two hours away from the city. She is surrounded by the bodies of the guards who had accompanied her, as well as those of her foes. The outlaws are dead, and one of the corpses carries an amulet of the Silver Hand.

Vilkas does not know what to make of any of it, but he knows there is only one link between those incidents.

The change comes over him, unbidden and he can see Farkas go slack-jawed in shock, but his brother follows suit and for the first time in years Vilkas is hunting again. He would be overwhelmed, but for the purpose that drives him. The beast is familiar and hated, but also best at what it does: hunt.

It does not lead him astray. Vilkas finds the tracks and follows them to the river, and his triumphant howl shatters the tranquility of pre-dawn and sends a flock of birds flying. Next to him his brother is unusually quiet.

By the time the sun has fully risen they are men again, and together the Companions approach the village, just a tiny hamlet between Whiterun and Riverwood. The townsfolk make their living from the trade that passes through and there are plenty of rafts transporting goods downriver. Some come from as far as Falkreath, and those are loaded with timber. Occasionally, a raft will also carry a person. The Harbinger knows this is how Wulf left Ivarstead, and a man fitting his description hired on one of the rafts that had already departed.

If the other man thinks he can outwit Vilkas so easily, he is in for a surprise.

It becomes a race against time, and days blur together until, weary but exhilarated, the brothers at long last arrive in Windhelm.

They lose a few more days, their questing fruitless, before they question one man who turns out to have the very information they need. He has just arrived in Windhelm himself, and yes, he has seen the man they are looking for. Black horse and hair, blue eyes and he had a grey mare, too. What other descriptions he offers fit Wulf to a hair.

Vilkas has to clench his fists to keep himself from grabbing the other Nord by the collar and shaking him. "Where did he go!?"

The ferryman looks at Vilkas funny before he spits out his toothpick and replies, "Why that would be Riverwood."

When the Companion lunges forward, he is caught and dragged away. A slap to the face brings the world back, along with a ringing in Vilkas' ears. Farkas is holding his jaw in his hands and he is saying something.

"It can't be", Vilkas whispers. There has to be something they had overlooked, some detail... Several of the rafts go further, to Anga's Mill and others go back, but there is also Riften and, "It can't be Riverwood."

So close. They had been _so close_.

When he looks up it is to see Farkas' face crease with worry. "You almost lost it there, brother", his twin warns and when Vilkas wants to run back, Farkas shakes his head. "No", he insists. "We ride."

By the time they arrive back in Whiterun the trail has gone cold.

The Jarl does not take the news of their quarry's escape well. He does not actually speak out against the Harbinger of the Companions, but he is blaming him, that much Vilkas can tell. He is dismissed tersely and returns to Jorrvaskr to spend the following days locked in Kodlak's study.

That is why it is the last thing he expects to hear when Torvar staggers downstairs and stammers between hiccups, that _the Jarl _wishes to speak to him.

Upstairs, it's not Balgruuf awaiting the Harbinger. It is Ulfric Stormcloak.

And before the day is out Vilkas' wits say goodbye and he is left tongue-tied and blundering, and the Jarl walks all over him and out again, with all the information the Harbinger never should have provided him with.

He sinks down on one of the benches in the courtyard. To his left he could see Ulfric talk to Eorlund, were he to look.

"All ready, like I promised", the smith says and holds up something that reflects the sunlight with a blinding gleam.

"Actually", Ulfric answers, his resonant baritone carrying over to where Vilkas is sitting, "Have it delivered to Balgruuf ."

There is only one reason for a warrior to give his axe to another. The Harbinger lets his chin sink down on his crossed arms and numbly wonders if war is what they will have to face next. As if the dragons, death and bad luck of the past months were not enough. And to think that a while ago he thought that being dumped by the man he had had genuine feelings for seemed like such a terrible thing.

Now he is glad to have at least dodged the proverbial arrow.

It would have been darned awkward explaining to Balgruuf that he was romantically involved with the man who killed his son and his best friend and robbed him to boot.

Vilkas snorts at the thought and begins to shake with silent laughter. It is only when he feels the wetness streak down his cheeks and wipes at the tears in surprise that he feels the responsibility he has been burdened with.

None of this was supposed to happen. Kodlak should be here, his wisdom now more needed than ever. The Silver Hand is still out there, the curse is no closer to being broken, Ria is crippled, Torvar addicted to drink and the Companions' flame is flickering; one gust away from being extinguished for good.

Whiterun is on the brink of war and if legend can be believed the end of the world is at hand and the one man who is destined to stop it is a psychopathic murderer on the run.

Farkas is leaving him.

Vilkas had kept it together during his brother's capture, during the funeral of his father figure and friend, but there is a limit to what a man can endure. The worst is not the bitterness of betrayal, but the feeling of utter impotence to do anything about it. He should have seen it coming. He should have known. But he had not, and now he is crying on the porch when he should just shove the jerk of a Jarl Stormcloak into the Skyforge and declare it an accident. It would solve one of their problems though what they are going to do about the heap of others that are piling up, threatening to bury them alive, Vilkas does not know.

If the Companions were not his responsibility and family, then for the first time, he might consider running as well.

He is not cut out for this. What did he do to deserve any of it? This entire mess isn't of his making.

But he just knows they are going to look to him to fix it, shield-siblings, Jarl and citizens, all.

Vilkas buries his head in his arms and wishes for one of those dragons to come and swallow him.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> The rest will probably be Farkas POV. Short chapter, because we really don't need to go over everything that's happened in length, yet I thought it was it was necessary to recap what the Companions were doing at the time.

Despite the rather dark beginning (couldn't be helped, with BtS's ending), I plan for this to be a happy story.


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